"No food after 6 AM, and nothing to drink after noon."
Those were our instructions. That, and we new we needed to get blood work, because if the blood work was good, we were off the hook on the biopsy thing, right?
The usual traffic fight, followed by the usual vein search (it still only takes one stick, but the phlebotomist has got to be willing to LOOK). By 9:30, we had the bad news: Creatinine up to 1.2, the highest yet, and no improvement in the neutrophil count.
Since we had a few hours to kill we went to the Penn Museum, which is right around the corner from the hospital. We saw and exhibit on the "2012 Phenomenon" and Maya culture in general, which was awesome since Babygirl is Maya. We also looked at some excellent ancient Greek and Roman and Native American artifacts. We checked the time, realized it was nearly noon and fled to a street vendor for a final drink.
The biopsy procedure went without difficulty. Well, except for one thing. It turns out that Babygirl's extreme ticklishness (is that a word? Spell check thinks not!) made it nearly impossible for them to ultrasound, mark, and stick a needle in her belly. Apparently severely ticklish people require extra sedation.
She's flat on her back until 11 PM, and has learned how unpleasant bedpans are, although she agrees they are a few steps up from catheters. We won't get the biopsy report until after noon tomorrow, and then? I was under the perhaps mistaken impression that we'd be able to go home. But our admitting resident reluctantly gave me a somewhat bigger list of potential problems, and gently planted the idea that we may have to stay to start treatment for whatever they find.
Ugh. Ughughugh. My office is undoubtedly a madhouse already since one of the other doctors in the building died over the weekend, most unexpectedly. I'm truly needed there. And truly truly truly needed here. It's no contest - if she stays, I stay. But dang. I say, DANG.